


Mile High Club

by notsugarandspice



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Flight attendant AU, M/M, NSFW, Porn With Plot, Reddie, Strangers to Lovers, just the most fun I ever had writing a fic, they're in their early 30s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 16:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14312937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsugarandspice/pseuds/notsugarandspice
Summary: Edward Kaspbrak is a respectable businessman and needs his rest in-flight. Except this time, the flight attendant isn’t very agreeable.or, Richie is a flirty flight attendant, and Eddie tries to deny his attraction





	Mile High Club

Eddie can hear nothing but the soothing sounds of Nicolas King coming out of the noise-canceling Bose he got himself last weekend, eyes closed and fingers tapping on the tray. He always pulls it out right after the seatbelt sign goes off, signifying the building anticipation for the beverage cart. It also helps him collect motivation to do some work before the food arrives, but he finds himself too relaxed to get up for the laptop. Eddie wants to recline the seat but thinks better of it, reasoning that he might actually doze off and miss the meal. And he did  _not_ pay thousands of dollars for first class to sleep through steak with potatoes.  _Na-ah._

The smooth jazz is enveloping his senses, making his thoughts enter a relaxed crevice of the brain that’s typically unavailable. He’s a busy man, and it feels nice. But Eddie likes flying because that’s his time to watch a film or read a book he doesn’t have time for since he works six days a week and never takes a vacation. He doesn’t hear anything else going on around him besides the very distant noise of a working engine. No smell of food is passing Eddie by, so he doesn’t even think of opening his eyes to look.

Several minutes in he hears a bustle and finally gives in, taking in the surroundings. The light is dimmed because of the late hour, a purple line framing the edge of the ceiling. There is a cart waiting to be rolled at the very first row, aimed in his direction. Eddie smiles and scrolls through the music to choose something a little more upbeat. He settles on a pop album and sits up a little, feeling the building anticipation. But the eyes fall closed again, and he’s mouthing the words, returning the jumpy fingers to tap on the tray again. The sound of his Rolex connecting with the plastic surface is probably causing people to glare, but he doesn’t care.  _I paid for this seat too, bitch. Mind your own business._

A couple of minutes pass, and he is so entranced by the lyrics that he doesn’t realize it might be his turn. He opens his eyes and is met with a smile larger than his entire face. A tall dark-haired man is leaning on the beverage cart, grinning at Eddie, radiating charming joy that isn’t entirely uncharacteristic for the profession but is still somehow unexpected. Eddie blinks several times, taken aback by the image, his eyes getting stuck on a messy black man-bun on the back of the flight attendant’s head. Eddie’s eyes shift down towards the pink mouth, and he snatches the headphones from his head, realizing that he is being spoken to.

“-or wine?”

“Oh, I’m- I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

The man rolls his eyes and clicks the tongue in mock irritation. “Alright, shorty. Would you like juice, water, or wine?” He looks expectantly, tongue stuck between large teeth. Eddie feels his blood boil.

“What did you just call me?” Eddie’s nails involuntarily dig into his palms.

“Shorty. Ya know, fun-sized?” The man winks and turns back quickly because someone asked for a refill on their tomato juice. Eddie feels his face burn bright as the drink.

He waits until the blue-eyed dick turns back in his direction. “You shouldn’t talk to me like that. Do you speak to all passengers this way?” Eddie’s arms instinctively cross in front of his abdomen, and he feels his hands shake, but thankfully, they‘re hidden.  _I hate confrontation._

The flight attendant seems flabbergasted for a moment but the recovery is quicker than anticipated, and Eddie doesn’t even have enough time to process what’s coming next. “Cute boss-men seem to do this to me. I lose my filter. Not that I have one, to begin with, but I sure as hell won’t have one for the rest of  _this_  flight. But if you’re thinking of making a run for it, we can jump off with the chute together? I’ll press against your back?”  _What. The. Actual. Fuck._

“I’ll just have wine, thanks.” Eddie feels his neck burn scarlet. He’s suddenly extremely grateful that a black polo covers most of it, and the grey cardigan shields the spread of the color.

The man snorts and quickly pours Eddie some red wine. He places the white napkin before bending down to put a glass on top of it. Eddie’s eyes get stuck on the name tag:  **Richard.** _Dick name for a Dick._

“What makes you think I like red?” asks Eddie, taking a sip of the drink.

The man leans on the cart again. “C’mon. You haven’t touched the screen yet, your legs are crossed, a half-read book is right next to you, and you’re wearing a polo with a cardigan. You are  _so_ a red, cutie.”

_Cutie?!_ “What’s wrong with you?”

“So many things. If you figure it out though, holla at me, I’ll be in the back.” And with that, the flight attendant pushes forward, a smug expression on his face.

* * *

Eddie’s irritation is soon distracted by the novel he started last week. He only really had time to read the author’s note; Eddie always reads the author’s note and everything that comes before the first chapter. He finds it’s the only way to connect with the book. Eddie opens the first chapter of  _The Rules Do Not Apply_ by Ariel Levy. Feminist literature is his guilty pleasure and one that he doesn’t pursue anywhere other than public transport. Because  _God forbid_  someone in the office finds out that their boss is not only triple tier gay but enjoys fighting for women’s rights. So he keeps that to himself and the tranquility of a first class seat.

He sips on the red wine slowly, afraid of getting bloated too soon into the flight. Eddie knows it’s inevitable, but he’d like to delay the horrid discomfort,  _thank you very much._ He finishes the first glass a lot quicker than warranted since t’s not exactly full, or big by his standards. And Eddie has  _very_ high standards when it comes to wine. Amongst other things. But he fights the urge to ask for another one, afraid of unavoidable innuendos that the flight attendant will provide. He sees a young stewardess walk around the opposite isle, and he closes his eyes to daydream about them switching spots so that  _Richard_ can find someone else to taunt.

But Eddie’s hopes are in vain because he feels hot breath on his cheek and jerks from the daydream, the face of the bastard so close that he can smell the distinct Coca-Cola in the other’s mouth. He represses the desire to ask for some soda.

“Just brought you some wine. Don’t get too flustered, boss-man,” says the flight attendant and pours the glass to the brink, eyeing Eddie half the time.

“What makes you think I’m a boss?” Eddie has to scooch a little closer to the window to avoid being in proximity to the vulgar man.

“Seriously?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, seriously.”

“Baby cakes, even if you weren’t wearing the cutest boss outfit complete with a Rolex and a diamond Cartier bracelet, I’d still be convinced that you’re a CEO or some shit. You’re super stiff and adorably serious.”  _Baby cakes?_

“Is there any way I could get the other girl to pour wine for me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, forming a collection of wrinkles on the forehead and he looks slightly terror-stricken. “Oh. I was super convinced that you’re… Nevermind. Not much I can do with-“

_Oh, ooooohhh._ “Wait, no. I’m not straight or anything. That’s not why I asked.”  _Why do I feel so fucking embarrassed?_

Richard’s face instantly lights up. “Alright. That’s cool. At least now I don’t have to look for a receipt for my gaydar.”

“Did you really just say  _gaydar?”_ Eddie can’t help the smile tugging the corners of his mouth. The wine always works quicker on an empty stomach, and all he had beforehand is a Clif bar.

“That I did, cutie. See, now that I know  _for sure,_ it’s gonna be mega hard to stop coming onto you.”

“How old are you again?”

“Why, are you into younger boys?” The man fucking _wiggles_ his eyebrows and all Eddie can do is scoff.

“Aren’t you working here?” Eddie lifts a challenging eyebrow and turns the head towards the book.

The flight attendant doesn’t say anything, and Eddie can picture those enlarged teeth framed by thin pink lips. He has to re-read the line several times for the content to stick.

* * *

Eddie is on chapter three by the time the food arrives. Since it’s first class, everyone gets a small white table cloth, china, and silverware. And there’s no rolling cart this time - they bring out a small tray and distribute the dishes right in front of you. Eddie can feel his mouth salivating from hunger, and he’s forced to lose the cardigan since the wine is giving him pregnant woman hot flushes. He momentarily wonders if it’s just the alcohol.

A face appears in the periphery of Eddie’s vision.

“Steak or pasta?”  _Of course, it’s him again. Why can’t I get the pretty ginger girl just once?_

Eddie knows better than to wear the headphones this time. “Steak,” he answers, trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion.

The flight attendant seems overly enthused at the choice and straightens to retrieve the food, grabbing Eddie’s empty glass as he leaves. He comes back about two minutes later and places the items onto a pull-out that Eddie kept open since the drinks were served. He is unbelievably hungry, and a minute longer would’ve resulted in not only his stomach making unpleasant noises.

“Thank you,” says Eddie, his eyes getting stuck on the small patch of stubble on the man’s chin. Eddie involuntarily rubs his own, feeling the smoothly shaved surface there.

The flight attendant doesn’t make a move to straighten up. “Would you like some meat with your meat?”

Eddie feels himself flush with the color of wine on the tray. “Oh my  _God._ Do you ever stop talking?” Embarrassed, he starts lifting the ceramic cover-up of the desert.

“Not really, cutie. I’m high-class entertainment. Worth more than that screen in front of you, I betcha.”

He finally straightens but seems hesitant to leave. “You gonna start with the sweet stuff?”

Eddie wants to smack the smug expression off the other’s face.

“I always have desert first. Then I don’t have to deny myself the pleasure.” Eddie raises an eyebrow as if allowing the other to flirt back.  _I mean, maybe I’m a tad bored._

The man’s grin is almost too endearing. “Sounds fair. I have more options in the back. I can show you.” The flight attendant’s tongue gets stuck between large teeth again.  _Is he fucking for real?_

“I didn’t ask for more wine, by the way,” said Eddie, sipping on the drink. He notices that the man’s eyes are trained on the vicinity of his mouth.

“You don’t seem to complain, cutie,” says the flight attendant licking the bottom lip and Eddie can’t help but look, shifting in the large seat.

“Whatever. And don’t call me cutie. I’m not fucking ten years old.” He turns to face the food, feeling his cheeks burn with the mixture of intoxication and something that feels like frustration. But what  _type_ of frustration it is, he’d rather not say.

Richard leans in to say something but an elderly woman sitting in front of Eddie demands some assistance, and he’s off. Eddie is about to turn on a foreign film with subtitles when he’s distracted by the same attendant bending down in the isle, leaning towards the old lady to hear what she’s saying. The dark green vest rides up, revealing a white dress shirt that’s barely staying tucked in the pants. The film started on itself, and the headphones are hanging off Eddie’s wrist, forgotten. He keeps eating the desert, thinking of  _I’m high-class entertainment_. He can’t keep his eyes off the soft swell of a perfect ass covered in dark green slacks, and he’s vaguely aware of how ridiculous he looks staring at someone’s butt while stuffing his face with a cherry pie. Eddie breaks the eye-line to check if anyone is watching him and his biggest fear is realized when he locks eyes with the amused redhead that serves the opposite isle. The small china plate clatters onto the pull-out but thankfully doesn’t break, and his entire face is most definitely bright crimson.

The attractive flight attendant whips around and Eddie tries his hardest not to look back. He puts the little dish to the side and pops the last piece of the pie into his mouth, taking a sip of wine to prevent the hiccups. He looks up once he regained some semblance of composure, and Richard just watches him with alarming interest. Raging irritation overcomes Eddie’s body - he’s  _never_  flustered. He’s a CFO of a very high profile firm, after all, and he’s not allowed to be embarrassed or agitated at any given time. But they’re barely an hour into the flight, and he already feels like a freshman in high school.

Eddie keeps his attention on the food, doing his best to ignore the man who walks around and blatantly  _stares._ He can’t take it eventually and puts on a pair of his Bose, switching them with the tiny headphones provided by the airplane company. Eddie wants to make sure he can’t hear anything. And  _anyone._

* * *

Eddie feels fingers squeeze his shoulder mildly. He’s surprised that his body isn’t even alarmed anymore - instead, he misses the small touch as soon as it’s gone. Eddie pulls the headphones down with a huff.

“Damn, baby, you either work out a lot or need a massage  _pronto.”_ The flight attendant plops down and bounces on the tiptoes in front of him, their faces almost on the same level. Eddie swallows from sudden proximity, and his grey jeans feel stifling.

“Baby? Really? How are you not fired yet?”

The man grins wide, and Eddie’s stomach flips. “Must be my irresistible charm.” Richard makes a showing of flipping an imaginary weave.

“Are you sure you didn’t just suck everyone off to keep a job?”

The steward leans his forehead on the armrest and laughs hard enough for the older woman to give him a glare.

“Coffee or tea, cherry pie?” Eddie can still hear laughter in his voice.

“You know for a fact that I finished the pie, why are you even asking?”

“No,  _you_ are the cherry pie. Besides, I can just bring you another one. Seems like you have a sweet tooth.”

Eddie leans his chin on the hand, propping the elbow on the armrest to get closer. He might as well use his charm too and see if the asshole means it. The flight attendant’s smile instantly falters. “Do  _you_ like sweet things?”

Richard takes a beat to answer, eyes stuck on Eddie’s lips. “A whole fucking lot.”

Eddie catches his eyes and keeps them locked for a bit, unashamed to find out that the darkening of the other’s blue eyes might reflect what goes on his face too. He’s close enough to see that the steward is wearing contacts, and Eddie is suddenly itching to see him in glasses. Just to throw them to the side and attack his face.  _Stop it, Kaspbrak._

Eddie breaks the spell by leaning back into the seat and pressing the button for the back to go down. He stares at the screen and hears the man breathe out longingly, and a crack of joints as he stands up and leaves. Eddie finds himself missing the company, but he’s too busy finishing the movie to care too much. But maybe he  _does_ care.

* * *

Eddie wakes up with a jolt, his seat reclined all the way into a horizontal position, a pillow pressed against the side of his face and a blanket covering him from shoulders to the feet. He is instantly aware of the fact that he’s not wearing any shoes.  _Who the fuck touched my feet?!_ He sits up and has to blink a couple of times to adjust to the darkness. Everyone else is sleeping - there is only one young man at the very front with a reading light. Some people are still seated, crouching uncomfortably with the movie still playing on the screen. Eddie’s TV is black, and all of his belongings are neatly folded on the small shelves under the tiny window.

He knows he didn’t do it, and it’s  _definitely_ not a flight attendant’s duty to put the passengers to sleep. Before he can think too much about how he ended up in cozy slumber, his bladder makes itself known, and he has to straighten the seat a little for the foot rest to go down. Once he’s up, he stretches his entire body, reaching up and claps a hand to his mouth when he involuntarily moans from the stretch of stale muscles. He wants to say that walking around in socks is gross, but he’s too sleepy to care.

Eddie walks to the bathroom that happens to be right behind his seat and locks himself in, sighing in relief as he finally lets go. As he washes his hands and face, he notices the prominent accumulation of oil and instantly wants to take out a little makeup bag he has stored above the seat. But he settles for water as of now and massages his temples to alleviate the growing post-wine headache. He knows that drinking on the plane never ends well for him, but he does it every single time anyway. Because paying for a first class seat comes with certain privileges that he tends to take full advantage of.  _What other privileges are you thinking of, Eddie? Cute dark-haired boys feeding you dessert? Ah, hell.  
_ He steps out and notices the notorious flight attendant sprawled on the small pull out seat in the back, sipping on Coca Cola and laughing at the redhead that’s cleaning up the area. Eddie stays quiet and peeks at the slit in the curtain, not-so-mildly curious.

“He’s going to wake up and choke you with his bare hands. You’re lucky everyone else was sleeping, or there’d be a riot.”

“Why, because I tucked the cute little demon back there? He looked exhausted. I just helped out a little.”

“You should really stop drinking this sugary crap. Did you forget your meds at the hotel again?”

“Oh my fucking  _God_ , Bevvie, you won’t believe what happened to me last night. I went to that nasty ass karaoke bar and ended up taking some Trish-Tish-whatever home, and the bitch stole the fucking bottle! Can you believe that shit?”

“Considering the places you go to, I totally can.” The redhead giggles and pats Richard softly on the head.

The flight attendant stands up, and Eddie doesn’t even have enough time to jump back to avoid being seen. Richard squints as he sees someone behind the curtain and his long leg only needs one step to pull it back and stare down at Eddie with an amused expression. Eddie feels paralyzed and also stirringly intrigued by what the man plans on doing with his discovery. Richard leans into the curtain, holding onto it from both sides, nothing but his face visible.

“Well, well, well. And who do we have here? Mr. Edward Spaghedward.”

Eddie blinks in surprise and mild irritation. “Did you go through my things?”

The man  _snickers. Like a fucking five-year-old._ “No, dummy. Although I’m mega curious what you’re Louis is full of.” He nods the head to Eddie’s seat. “You boarding pass is right next to the seat. And I’m a snoopy-snoop, what can I say.” Eddie can imagine him shrugging the shoulders, he even sees the curtain move.

He’s suddenly possessed with the strongest desire to  _maul_ this guy.  _I mean, who does he think he is, looking into my personal things, touching me when I’m unconscious, UNDRESSING ME?!_ But instead of reflecting the burning irritation stuck in the middle of his gut, Eddie steps forward and grabs the flight attendant by the tie, reaching his hand between the two sides of the curtain, tugging him downward. As expected, the man stops smiling, and his eyes widen comically. Eddie can feel Richard’s nose pressing into his cheek, but his own tiny button one is too short to reach.

“My name is  _Eddie_ , and you better come with me now.” He can feel the flight attendant shakily exhale with a quiet whine and the warm scent of Coke is spread over Eddie’s face, sweet and tart at the same time.

“W-wait a second, sweet pea,” says the man and tries to pull back but Eddie has a vice grip on the tie.

“Do I look like I’m a patient man, Richard?” He can see the corners of the other’s mouth jump a little.

“I’m Richie, baby, and no. You’re about as patient as you are at work, I’m guessing.” Richie stays frozen as if waiting for the other’s permission to move.

Eddie releases the tie and steps back. “Want to find out?”

He leans against the bathroom door and smirks, putting one foot in front of the other nonchalantly, crossing the arms enough for the biceps to bulge a bit. Richie shamelessly gives him a once over and pushes into the backroom, saying something to the redhead. There’s a loud exclamation of laughter, and the man finally reveals himself, already unbuttoning the vest. Eddie snorts and grabs Richie’s wrist, pulling him into the restroom.

“God, you’re about as enthusiastic as a growing teenage boy.” Eddie locks the door after him, and the lights turn on automatically.

“Just call me Richie, hot cakes.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Eddie surges forward and connects their lips, hands instantly flying to the bun and trying to undo it. He tugs it with more strength than intended because the hairband just snaps in the middle, bouncing onto the mirror. He can feel Richie laughing into the kiss.

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?”

“And you talk too much.” Eddie pushes his tongue in, tasting pure sugar in the other’s mouth, fingers stuck in the man’s tangled mane. He wants to kiss him long enough for the candy flavor to dissipate or merge into the lingering wine taste in his own. Eddie hates to admit it to himself, but the fucker is already making his knees weak.

Richie is pressing him into the closed door, occasionally rolling his hips to squish their bodies together. The flight attendant’s hands are tugging the polo out of the jeans, and then they instantly go around Eddie’s hips, covering half of his abdomen and back. Eddie can feel the familiar, pleasant tug somewhere below the stranger’s hands.

They take their time exploring each other’s mouths, relieved that the rest of the plane is seemingly asleep. Eddie bites down on Richie’s bottom lip and feels a shuddering breath on his cheek. He smiled into the kiss, undoing the flight attendant’s belt. Eddie pushes the steward forward and switches their places. He drags the zipper down, making sure his fingers are touching Richie’s bulge. There’s so much warmth emanating from the area that Eddie wants to scream. He can feel the other’s fingers digging into his bicep, and Eddie looks up to see him biting the lower lip to avoid making unnecessary sounds. Eddie can’t resist running his teeth on Richard’s chin, nipping a little. He licks a stripe leading from Adam’s apple to the upper lip, eyes locked with the other’s. Richie’s blues are almost completely black, shining, and there are beads of sweat forming right under the hairline. Eddie kisses along the jawline, smelling the distinct scent of Old Spice and something like…  _chocolate?_ Whatever it is, he can’t get enough.

Eddie unbuttons the vest slowly, teasingly and drags it down the man’s long arms. He can see Richie’s stomach fall in occasionally from strained breath through the dress shirt and suddenly wants to put his mouth  _everywhere._ But he waits, patiently goading, trying to get the other to squirm and moan. Now that the piece of clothing is in his hands, he lets it drop to the floor, and starts lowering himself, his knees on the vest.

“Shit, man, your eyes alone are gonna make me cream my pants.”

Eddie rolls hie eyes and stands up again, curling up Richie’s tie and stuffing it into the tall man’s mouth. “Seriously, shut the fuck up.”

He pinches the flight attendant’s stomach and revels in the lopsided smile, lowering himself again. He finally drags the pants down, letting them hang around Richie’s ankles. He smiles at  _The Simpson’s_ boxer shorts and slides his small palm along the flight attendant’s inner thigh. Richie is holding onto his other hand for dear life, both of them squeezing the flight attendant’s hip.

Eddie’s fingers finally reach the home base, and he fondles the other’s balls softly, hearing a muffled groan come out of the steward’s mouth. He bites down on Richie’s abdomen, making the other’s foot fly into the door. Eddie slaps him on the stomach and presses a finger to the mouth, indicating to keep quiet.

He decides not to drag any more time, knowing that someone is bound to wake up sooner or later. Eddie hooks his fingers into the waistband of the boxers and slides them down, letting them stay where the slacks are. He takes a moment to appreciate Richie’s size and grins up at him before he trails several kisses over a patch of dark hair that was previously hidden. Eddie experimentally bites down on it and pulls,  _aaaand there’s that sound,_ quickly swatting off the hair that’s left between his lips.

He wants to think that all of this is immensely gross and unsanitary but there is almost an unnatural amount of allure surrounding this man in front of him, and he can’t help but think that there’s literally no other situation that would’ve led him to be on his knees in a public restroom. Especially one on the airplane. But Richie’s charm and goddamn motor mouth somehow got to him, and there is no way he’d pass an opportunity to blow a cute boy. Eddie is like that.

With more tenderness than he’d ever give anyone else, he bites down on the head, pushing the tip of his tongue into the slit. Richie’s hands instantly fly into the other’s hair, confused between tugging away or towards his own crotch. Eddie keeps his own palms pressed against the other’s thighs, gently massaging, wanting to revel in the reactions he’s eliciting without overstimulating.

He can feel Richie’s hips move into his direction and he has to push back, pressing his bare ass into the door. He can hear the man chuckle, but that only spurs him on, giving his ego the go-ahead to lick a stripe from the balls to the head. An irregular collection of sounds are coming out of Richie’s mouth, and Eddie has to struggle against the other’s pushy hands, but he starts slowly sucking, keeping it halfway for now. The flight attendant probably gets lost in the feeling a little because within several seconds Eddie’s nose is almost pressing into the dark patch of hair, and his throat feels the unmistakable clenching of throat muscles that weren’t prepared. And Eddie is good at blow jobs, so there’s no way in hell he’s letting this  _Dick_ ruin it.

He swats Richie’s hands away from his head, pinning them to the sides of his body. The man whines pathetically, and Eddie rolls his eyes looking up with a dick in his mouth.  _Classy._ But he finally finds a rhythm that works for both of them, occasionally switching his hands from holding either Richie’s hips or hands back. He doesn’t like to be pushed when it comes to shit like this.

But Richie doesn’t seem to complain,  _not that he can,_ and merely elicits pleasant moans that make Eddie’s hand involuntarily land on his own crotch, putting some pressure there. He speeds up the rhythm of the bobbing, hollowing the cheeks and pressing his lips harder as he takes on more. Richie’s eyes are closed now, top of the head pressed against the door. Eddie knows that it means the man is close and he starts moving even faster, putting one hand on the underside of the flight attendant’s balls and the other on the very bottom of the member.

He can feel the familiar pulsating around his swollen lips and pulls the mouth back a little, including more motion with his hand. Eddie feels Richie enlarge on the end and knows that it’s a matter of seconds. He’s mesmerized by the sporadic rise and fall of the other’s stomach, elating pride coursing through him from making the other feel good. Richie’s hands find his hair again but this time just stay there, tugging slightly but not pushing. Eddie lets the hand go for a second, pushing his mouth all the way and grabbing onto the back of Richie’s thighs to bring him in even deeper. A low guttural sound escapes the tall man and Eddie pulls back, pumping, lips slack around the head. Mere seconds later he feels the warm liquid his tongue, and he wraps the lips around it, helping with his hand. Eddie continues the motion for several seconds, making sure to taste every last drop of him. When he feels the pulsating dissipate almost entirely and the size decrease, he finally sits back on his heels looking up at Richie.

Eddie has to shuffle a little because of the discomfort in his pants, but he’s too proud of his work to even think about it.  _At least for now._ Richie’s cheeks are red, and the shirt is sticking to his stomach, clinging to the sweat that formed there. He looks like he was fucked well. Eddie instantly wonders what it would be like to continue but knows it’s a bit unrealistic for two unprepared guys 30,000 miles in the air. Although, it’s probably not going to leave his mind for the foreseeable future.

Richie looks down at him with pure fascination, and Eddie’s heart is still beating out of his chest. There is a dangerous amount of oxytocin coursing through his petite body, and all he wants is to give it a release. Richie finally pulls the tie out of his mouth, letting it fall down crumpled and wet. Eddie wrinkles his face and stands up, untying it as the man tucks the member back into the already pulled up pants. He leans down to kiss Eddie after the tie is gone, but the other pulls back, pressing a finger to the flight attendant’s mouth.

“Are you not returning the favor?” Eddie’s eyes travel down towards his crotch and up to connect with the bright blues. The guy squeezes the other’s hip affectionately and switches their places, pressing Eddie against the door.

“Sure you’re ready for this?” The asshole smirks and quickly unbuttons Eddie’s jeans, giggling at the enthusiasm at which Eddie’s dick pops out. “Black? Love it, boss-man.”

“Why don’t you occupy your mouth already.”

The man laughs and lowers himself on the vest, oblivious to the fact that it’s still on the floor. He has to hold Eddie’s hips that involuntarily buck against his hands. Richie doesn’t lose any time either, biting Eddie gently through the underwear. He moans quietly in response, and Richie has to point a finger to the tie that lies abandoned in the sink. Eddie makes a mock gagging sound and they both laugh. Richie slips an index finger into the boxer’s hole and presses it against the other’s length. Eddie closes his eyes in minute relief, and they shoot open when the chilly air hits him as the boxers slide down along with the jeans.

Richie smiles up at Eddie but proves to be less of a tease, instead grabbing onto him, letting the head hit the back of the flight attendant’s throat. Eddie has to clap a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from screaming, and he feels his legs slightly shake as the hips roll forward. Richie wraps his large hands around the hipbones, pressing Eddie against the door and relentlessly deep-throats, an array of filthy wet sounds bouncing off the walls of the tiny room.

Eddie briefly wonders if the stewardess or any other passenger can hear them but his mind suddenly goes stark white when Richie’s tongue presses into the slit, and teeth graze its underside. Eddie shamelessly moan-groans and bumps his head against the door, trying to keep himself vertical. Even  _that_ is hard to focus on at this point. Richie’s mouth is absolutely merciless around him, hands pressing everywhere: hips, thighs, ass, his balls. Everything is on fire, and Eddie’s lower abdomen feels like erupting at any given second.

He feels his eyes roll back as first signs of an approaching orgasm hit him, making his hands shaky. He pulls on the other’s hair for some sense of stability, and there is a raging pressure sitting below his navel that begs to be released. He can feel the back of Richie’s throat again, warm, no,  _hot,_ against his length, and as soon as teeth graze under the head again, he’s gone to pure bliss. For several seconds he doesn’t see or hear anything other than a small ringing in his ears from the sensational explosion, legs  _literally_ shaking against the locked door. Eddie distinctly feels Richie suck him though the rest of it, rubbing soothing circles where the dark patch of his own hair is. He realizes with slight terror that it might not be an issue for him to get hard again. He doesn’t even know how to feel about it.

Richie finally pulls back, looking smug and satiated, even though Eddie is the one who just came. He suddenly kisses the tip of Eddie’s limp dick, and the small man smacks him on top of the head, quickly pulling boxers and jeans up.

“Did I do better than your secretary, Eds?”

Eddie finishes buttoning his jeans up and throws the tie towards Richie to wash his hands. “You’re fucking disgusting. I don’t sleep with people in the office.”

“That’s not exactly a crime, Eds.”

“Stop calling me that, dipshit. And just because you’re a walking definition of a man-whore, doesn’t mean everyone else should be.”

“No to the first one, and ain’ nothin’ wron’ wid a lil’ lovin’.”  _Is that a Southern accent?_

“Alright, Casanova. You might need to clean off your uniform.”

Richie finally gets up, but instead of folding things to launder them later, he pushes them down the opening of the trash bin. Eddie stares at him incredulously, stuck between reaching out for the clothes or a napkin.

“The hell’d you that for?”

“I’m goin’ on vacation after this, darlin’.” Richie pushes Eddie with his hip towards the door and washes his hands before splashing some water on the face. He doesn’t wipe it. Eddie kind of likes the way droplets hang off the dark lashes.

“Why Italy?”

“Who says I’m staying there, peach cakes?” Richie leans down and presses an unexpected kiss to Eddie’s lips.

And Eddie really wants to protest, keeping his eyes open and lips unmoving for several seconds but eventually gives in, tasting a combination of himself and Richie in his mouth. He doesn’t kiss after blow jobs, but he finds he can’t really say no to this man. Also, the taste is an improvement to Coca-Cola. They kiss until a woman’s voice comes from the other side of the door, and they’re both hard again.

* * *

 Eddie sleeps like a baby the rest of the flight, spent from the restroom escapades. That was definitely his first. And maybe he wanted more, but that’s something he’d have to prepare for if the opportunity ever arises again. There’s a pang on the left side of his chest from the realization that he might not want to do it with anyone else. It would definitely ruin his plans of actually fucking someone on the plane. But maybe he can convince Richie to be on his returning flight.  _Ugh, stop being pathetic, Kaspbrak._

Richie wakes him up for the second meal with a slight tickle behind the ear and Eddie wants to smack the person until he sees that grinning face again. He recovers from the cranky sleep-deprived rage and smiles back, straightening his seat to receive the food. Richie doesn’t even ask him this time, providing a meat option instead of pasta, and gives him two portions of dessert with some black tea. Eddie is so giddy with excitement that he forgets to turn on the movie, watching the flight attendant move around distributing the goods instead.

Then he observes as Richie animatedly advertises some Duty-Free items, peeping from his book from time to time. He abandoned the wine to water after their escapade, feeling even more exhausted and dehydrated, but also sated and happy. Their eyes meet on several occasions, and when the pilot announces that the plane has started descending, Eddie suddenly doesn’t want it to land. He listens to a lot of Adele on the way down, chastising himself for getting attached to a hookup.

And as soon as the seatbelt sign goes off, he takes his time collecting the items on the side, putting on his shoes and only gets up to retrieve the bags several minutes later. They’re supposed to be the first ones out, but he lingers a bit, taking his time with putting things into the black checkered Louis Vuitton backpack. Eddie finally takes out the matching carry-on suitcase and looks to the side, connecting with sad blue eyes, framed by slightly furrowed brows. Richie isn’t wearing a vest or a tie, and the hair is still a mess, but a little better than in the bathroom. Eddie wants to run his hands through it again.

Richie weakly smiles at him, and Eddie awkwardly waves, returning the melancholy smirk. He steps out of the plane and instantly feels something heavy press on his chest. He ever forgot to turn on the phone as soon as they landed, stuffing it into the backpack when he got up. There’s a dull void where excitement should be, and he finds himself in the airport restroom, spraying some cold water on the face.

But when he lifts his head to reach out for the tissue Richie is standing right next to him, grinning back in the mirror.

“So, sexy boss-man who has a thing for public restrooms. Wanna go share a bottle of red and fool around?”


End file.
